


After the Morning After

by WinterWriter (Bebluvsnaru)



Series: The Prophecy of Three [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Romance, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebluvsnaru/pseuds/WinterWriter
Summary: Part II and continuation of One Night With A King:Jon Snow travels to Dragonstone Castle to meet Daenerys Targaryen for the first time...





	After the Morning After

“Who is that your grace?” Ser Davos Seaworth leaned over and whispered to Jon, indicating the thin dark skinned man wrapped from head to toe in cloth. Only his eyes and the bridge of his nose were visible. He was obviously a foreigner to the north with unfriendly, clever, black eyes, which appeared to know important secrets only certain men should know. His presence among those traveling to the sea did not sit well with Seaworth.

Jon looked over his shoulder, only glancing at the stranger who caught the onion knight's attention. The grip on his sword belt tightening was the only sign that he saw the man. His stoic face went unchanged, “Make room for him in the cart.”

Again, Seaworth looked skeptically at the stranger and then back at Jon, but he did not argue. “Yes sir.”

Jon moved on and Seaworth was left to inform the stranger that he would be riding in the cart. He narrowed his eyes at the man. “May I ask your name? And who you are to the king?”

“Nymor Sand.” The voice was gruff and dripping with a thick accent of long a’s and soft d’s. The stranger’s eyes cut away indicating that he did not plan to expand his answer any further.

“So you’re Dornish then, sir?” The onion knight continued to press on curiously. He attempted to sound friendly but the stranger’s demeanor did not change a bit. Not that it mattered, Seaworth was not trying to make friends. He had little trust for the men who surround his king. Not after he already watched him die once at their hands.

The stranger just stared ahead still not answering.

“The king says you are supposed to ride in the cart.” Seaworth finally gave in and left the instructions, pointing to the cart.

The man nodded silently and then stalked off to find a small space to squeeze into at the back.

* * *

 

“Are you certain about this, Jon?” Sansa Stark with fiery red hair splayed over her bulky fur coat appeared from within the crowd of working men bustling in and out of the dark cold hall. She fell in step with her brother as he walked to his large black horse. Her determined green eyes were more searing in this moment than her hair. “I still have an unsettling feeling that you are walking into a trap, brother. I do not understand why you would abandon your men to travel into such obvious danger.”

“And in other words, you still don't trust my instincts as your king.” Jon replied dryly.

“No.” Sansa replied. “I do not trust the loyalties of those who you seek as allies. Our grandfather traveled south to death. Our father traveled south to death. Our brother traveled south to his death…”

“There are things worse than death, Sansa.” Jon tightened his saddle and then mounted his horse. “And they all lie to the north. We need the dragon glass.”

“Watch your back… and your head, brother.” Sansa sighed out her last warning angrily, looking away.

“Don’t worry. I have more than two eyes now, little sister. I will not… cannot die. Not yet at least.” Jon replied vaguely, urging his horse on.

* * *

 

The king’s party rode south towards Dragonstone. A three day ride through the freezing winter to the coast to board a ship headed south to the rugged cliffs of the ancient Targaryen island.

The first night that the party stopped amongst the icy northern woods, Seaworth looked uneasily around the campsite feeling as though something or someone was unaccounted for. He moved off towards Jon who was sitting by the fire and whispered, “Where is that foreigner? I haven't seen a sign of him since we stopped for the night.”

His head down against the cold night, Jon took a sip of the warm ale in his cup and gave Davos a sidelong look. “Don’t worry. He’s around. Just make sure to keep the fire burning.”

The onion knight did not see the foreigner again until the next morning, when he reappeared in the back of the cart without a word.

The second night was exactly the same. Seaworth began to wonder if the foreigner had some connection to the duplicitous red woman and was possibly one of her shadows, melting into darkness once the sunlight gave way to night. But whenever he approached Jon about this stranger, he got nothing but a blank stare.

The third day, they finally reached the frozen coast and boarded the ship by mid day. The foreigner was already gone from the back of the cart without a trace.

Davos searched high and low, but there was no sign of him among the men or within the vicinity. He approached Jon again. “Your grace... I hate to bring this to your attention again…”

Jon slapped Seaworth on the back. “Don’t worry Seaworth. Everyone is accounted for and boarding the ship. I’ll be in my cabin. I’d like to not be disturbed unless we’re under attack or about to topple.”

“Right sir.” Clearly confused, Davos cleared his throat and adjusted his belt. Then he walked off to ensure everything else on the cart made it aboard the ship.

Jon chuckled to himself and then walked onto the ship, heading down below to his cabin in the back. He walked inside and shut the door, before looking around among the shadows. He removed his fur coat and then the armor that he wore underneath.

As he did so, one of the shadows moved, taking the form of what appeared to be a thin young man in the far corner of the cabin. Jon turned and faced the shadow impassively as though waiting to see what it planned to do.

The foreigner swiftly moved across the room until he stood right in front of Jon, a dagger appearing like a sliver of silver from his right sleeve, slashing the binds of the under coat so it opened, revealing Jon’s white shirt underneath.

Patiently, Jon looked down as the foreigner popped his buttons, one by one, with the intricate motions of the dagger. “Do you plan to undress me completely with that knife?”

The foreigner chuckled lightly in response, pulling down the mask and then yanking back the hood so long curly thick hair came tumbling out over her shoulders and down her backside.

Jon moved to take the dagger, but Sarella moved swifter, circling her hand away from his grasp and maneuvering the dagger edge backwards in her palm to place it at the base of his throat. She used her free hand to continue unbuttoning his shirt, and then she pushed the coat and the shirt off of his shoulders so his upper body was bare. She chided him. “Uh uh uh! I’m not finished undressing you, my king.”

She stood up on her tippy toes, pressing her lips to his lips and sliding her tongue inside his mouth to intertwine and roll over his tongue. She kept the dagger to his throat. And as Jon grabbed her hips and pressed her against him, it sliced superficially into his skin drawing blood. But he seemed not to notice as he ripped the binds from her coat, stripping her until her breasts slipped out and she was completely naked with the exception of the hidden Valayrian dagger sheaths on her legs and her arms which Jon had confiscated back from the courtesan.

As she unbuckled the belt to his pants unleashing his large hard cock, Jon moved again, and this time he was able to grab hold of her small wrist, swinging her around so she faced away from him. He pressed her backside onto his membrane, moving his lips to her ear and sliding his tongue down the side of her neck to her shoulder until he felt her body spasm and heard her moan. As his pants dropped to the ground, he cupped her breasts with his free hand, teasing her nipples until they grew hard in response. Another load moan slipped from Sarella’s lips as his hard cock moved against her buttocks slipping between her legs and sliding back and forth against the most sensitive spot until her juices began to flow.

Jon squeezed her wrist with much more pressure now, while inserting himself inside her, thrusting deeper and deeper until he hit her spot and she began to scream. Overcome, Sarella tip toed forward until Jon had her pressed against the cabin wall, in attempt to escape from the voraciousness of his appetite for her and the relentlessness of his strokes. But Jon held tighter to her hip and her wrist not allowing her any relief. “No. There is no hiding from me tonight.”

Jon continued to thrust deeper as Sarella was taken completely by the pleasure between her legs and the pain around her wrist. Finally weak and giving herself over, she dropped the dagger from her hand as she screamed his name, hooking her arm back around his neck as he devoured her throat with his mouth.

Jon continued to thrust into her as she bucked back at him and he felt himself close to exploding. He slid his hand down between her legs and began to work on the sensitive knob between her folds with his fingers until he was certain she was nearing her peak. Then he released as she screamed out her own climax. “oh… fuck Jon! I’m cummming!”

Sarella rode out her orgasm as Jon held tightly to her waist, his face buried within her hair, grunting through his own pleasure. Then they collapsed back together on top of his bed.

After catching her breath, Sarella lifted her head to find Jon silently staring at her. She smiled at him and he finally spoke, “I understand why you travel as a man. But is there a reason why you insist on driving my advisor insane while you do so?”

“You’re advisor pries too much. So I left him something to be curious about.” Sarella replied, reveling in the thought of her current game with Seaworth.

“Ser Seaworth is a trustworthy man.” Jon stated, attempting to hid his own amusement. “He would keep your secret.”

“I only trust you.” Sarella shook her head firmly. Her thick hair falling into her sharp black eyes. “Besides, I learned long ago, the more men who know your true name... the more men who know the secret to your demise."

Jon turned to face her in the bed and moved the hair out of her face gently. “Many men know my true name, Sarella.”

Sarella lifted an eyebrow. She appeared to want to say something refute Jon's last state, but then thought better of it and said, “And kings often die young. Good thing you have more than one life to live, Jon Snow. My dead sisters however were not so lucky.”

They heard talk on the way to the ship that the Greyjoy siblings and three of the sand snakes had been defeated by the siblings’ uncle at sea. Two of her sisters' bodies were found hanging from the bow of a ship. Sarella had no plans to come to the same unfortunate end anytime soon.

* * *

 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the iron throne, rightful queen of the andals and the first men, protector of the seven kingdoms, the mother of dragons, the khaleesi of the great grass sea, the unburnt, the breaker of chains.”

Jon, Davos, and the foreigner stood in front of Tyrion, Missendei, Grey worm, and the many Dothraki guards, who surrounded Daenery’s enormous and quite ominous throne.

Jon and Davos looked at each other uneasily, unsure how to proceed next after that very long and very official introduction.

Finally, Seaworth said, “this Jon Snow… ummm… he’s king in the north.”

“Thank you for traveling so far my lord. I hope the seas weren’t too rough.” Daenerys Stormborn offered politely.

“The winds were kind your grace.” Jon nodded back equally as polite. He was not one for small talk but he was not quite sure what to make of this usurping queen.

She was very beautiful. He had determined that as soon as he lay eyes on her white tresses and lavender eyes. She was also very smart which would explain why Tyrion stood by her side as her Hand. There was a hint of warmth and kindness, almost innocence to her eyes that his heart warmed to. But the wily smile on her lips gave away her capacity for cruelness, quite the opposite of her eyes. It spoke volumes to no matter how soft and beautiful she appeared, this young woman was not easily crossed.

Polite exchanged aside, she pointed out almost at once how Torrhen Stark bent the knee to her ancestor, Aegon Targaryen, in exchange for his life and the lives of his northmen.

“An oath is an oath… and perpetuity means…” The smile on her face became even more shrewd as she looked to her Hand. “What does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?”

Tyrion answered on beat as if he was giving a punchline to a joke. “forever.”

Daenerys turned her lavender eyes back to Jon with a satisfied and smug expression. She repeated for emphasis, “forever.”

“So I assume, my lord, you’re here to bend the knee.”

Jon looked down and sighed. This was exactly how he did not want this meeting to go. He looked back up and said, “I am not.”

“Oh.” Daenerys’ wily expression did not change despite her disappointed words. “Well, that is unfortunate. You’ve traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?”

“Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive.” Jon rarely wore his feelings on his face. But now his face wore an expression of disbelief. She had purposely skipped over a large chunk of history in order to manipulate it in favor of her cause. “He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the seven kingdoms.”

“My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen… I ask your forgiveness.” Daenerys face changed now too. To an expression sincerity that completely matched her words. She asked him not to judge her by the sins of her father. “Our two houses were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms have ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow.”

Her entire face implored him. And Jon felt himself wanting to give in to her. It was as though the stories were true and her Targaryen blood held a certain special type of power. The type of power that ran only in the blood of dragons. “Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together, we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

But though he was named a Snow, Jon was a Stark through and through. And wolves were very rarely broken of their already set ways. He looked around at the others in the hall, taking a moment to choose his words wisely. “You’re right. You’re not guilty of your father’s crimes. As I am not beholden to my ancestor’s vows.”

Daenery’s face lost her smile completely now.  She snapped, “then why are you here?”

“Because I need your help and you need mine.” Jon replied, just now getting to the point.

Daenerys looked down at Tyrion skeptically. “Did you see three dragons flying overheard when you arrived?”

Jon had seen the three dragons, and they had made just as much of an impression on him as their mistress. But that changed nothing. “I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “They're hard to miss.”

“But still I need your help?”

Davos spoke up now, recognizing that Jon would need some help with this argument and realizing the silent foreigner would be absolutely no help. Seaworth was not clear on why he was even present. “Not to defeat Cersei, my grace. You could storm King’s Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn’t even have dragons.”

“Almost.” Tyrion re-clarified.

“But you haven’t stormed King’s Landing.” Jon spoke up again. “Why not?”

“The only reason I can see is that you don’t want to kill thousands of innocent people. It’s the fastest way to win the war, but you won’t do it, which means…” Jon had quietly made up his mind about the young queen in the time that they spoke. Her eyes gave her truth away, while her mouth was the mask that she learned to wear in order to protect herself from those who underestimated her time and time again. “...at the very least, you’re better than Cersei.”

“Still that doesn’t explain why I need your help.” Daenerys replied simply.

“Because right now, you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we’re children playing at a game, screaming that the rules aren’t fair.”

Daenerys looked angrily at Tyrion and began listing all of the reasons why she was starting to not like Jon very much.

“Your grace, everyone you know will die before winter’s over if we don’t defeat the enemy to the north.” Jon interrupted, his growing impatience with this conversation now becoming evident.

“As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the north.” Daenerys retorted.

“I am not your enemy.” Jon stated firmly and then he continued hesitantly, knowing where this was about to head. “The dead are the enemy.”

“The dead?” Daenerys looked shocked and confused.

“The army of the dead is on the march.” Jon pressed forward despite the complete disbelief radiating back in his direction. “You don’t know me well, Lord Tyrion, but do you think I’m a liar or a madman?”

“No, I don’t think you’re either of those things.” The mutual respect that Tyrion had for Jon shown on his face.

Jon turned back to Daenerys. “The army of the dead is real. The white walkers are real. The night king is real. I’ve seen them. If they get past the wall and we’re squabbling amongst ourselves… we’re finished.”

The room stood still as everyone waited to hear the queen’s response. She took her time, not knowing what to make of Jon’s words. The entire story was ridiculous, yet it was obvious he truly believed everything he said. Hell dragons were ridiculous. Yet she managed to have three.

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us. Robert was your father’s best friend, no?” Daenerys revisited the struggles of her childhood. Hidden. Exiled. Constantly on the run for her life. She walked forward to Jon, reminding him exactly who she was and why her current title was so long. “I was born to rule the Seven kingdoms, and I will take my rightful place.”

Jon felt himself pulled in again by the dragon. There was actual fire in Daenerys’ lavender eyes. But at the same time, Jon’s eyes went ice cold as the wolf took back over in response, and he replied, “You’ll be ruling over a graveyard if we don’t defeat the night king.”

They stood face to face. Neither one about to budge. The tension in the room was palpable.

“The war against my sister has already begun.” Tyrion moved to walk between them, using his unshakable charm to try to temper the situation. “You can’t expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting whatever you saw beyond the wall. But if you pledge your sword to her cause, we will defeat Cersei and then we can protect the north.”

“We don’t have time for that!” Jon snapped at Tyrion.  He turned back to Daenerys. “And why would I pledge my sword to your cause? I mean no offense, your grace, but I don’t know you. As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father’s name, and my own father fought to overthrow the mad king. The lords of the north placed their trust in me to lead them, and I will continue to do so as well as I can.”

“That’s fair.” Daenerys replied, her eyes still burning. “It’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And by declaring yourself king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion.”

Cutting through the silence, footsteps approached from behind them as Varys appeared with news. His fat face was flushed and he whispered in Daenerys's ear urgently.

The fire completely extinguished from her eyes as she nodded quietly to Varys.  Then she turned back to her guests. “You must forgive my manners. You and your advisors will be tired after your long journey. We’ll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms.”

She spoke Dothraki to some nearby men and they approached Jon, Davos, and the foreigner. As she turned and walked away, Jon called after, “am I your prisoner then?”

Daenerys paused and then replied, “Not yet.”

* * *

 

Sarella stretched out on her bed watching Jon brood next the single window that looked out on the ocean waves crashing against the rocks below the castle.

She snuck out of her room to find him, soon after the Dothraki guard left and the servants finished drawing her bath and laying out food. But Jon was in no mood to play with her as usual. He left his room to walk the grounds and to survey their current situation. Later he reappeared at her door in an even worse temper than before.

“Well if you don’t want to fuck, your grace, I am hungry and I plan to eat.” Growing tired of Jon’s mood, she began to eat the food set on the table.

Jon observed her quietly and then went back to looking out the window. “We’re prisoners on this island, you know.”

“Really?” Sarella responded, not actually listening.

“They took my ship.” He continued, ignoring her indifferent response.

“Did you truly believe in her dragons before they almost ate us as we left your ship? Or did you think it was all just exaggeration?” Sarella pointed out.

 Jon sighed. “No. Not really.”

“Well then why would she believe you about your walking deadmen?” Sarella frowned, thinking the food on Dragonstone was even worse than the food served to the north.

He turned and looked at Sarella squarely. “Why do you believe me, Sarella? You’ve never seen the dead or the white walkers, yet you followed me here without question.”

“You forget how I found my way to your court in the first place.” Sarella replied still refusing to look up into Jon's handsome face. “Everything… dragons, white walkers, the night king, the army of the dead. There are documents hidden in the Citadel that even the old maesters don’t realize are there anymore. Your friend, Samwell, knew me as an acolyte named Alleras. We made contact several times, and in the process, both of us gained access to the restricted libraries.”

“But that is not the only reason, my grace.”

Jon looked annoyed and corrected her again. “Jon.”

“I only tell you this because I trust you… Jon."  Sarella paused for emphasis.  "Insatiable curiosity. My father always said that was my greatest weakness. I believe in seeing and knowing what self proclaimed wise men choose to ignore. And it all began with a single prophecy given to me as a child by a witch.”

With a sour look on her face, Sarella put down the food and looked up into Jon's eyes for the first time since she sat at the table. “Samwell Tarly told me that you were one of the most honest man he ever met. That he trusted you with his life seven times over. I could see in his eyes that he believed every word. Even that grumpy old onion knight of yours follows you without wavering. I myself have already felt the type of loyalty that you inspire. And the dwarf. He has an enormous amount of respect for you… enough to stand between you and his queen.”

She began to point out what the foreigner observed as he stood in Daenrys Targaryen's throne room earlier that day. “The dwarf has the same amount of respect for this Targaryn queen as he does for you. The Dothraki, the Unsullied, and all those who left their home to sail here with her, have the same look in their eyes that Samwell had when he spoke about you. The fact that an entire army of nomadic warriors would cross an ocean that they haven’t crossed in centuries for her… is almost as impressive as Ser Davo’s patience with the foreigner just based on your word.”

Sarella raised an eyebrow and smirked. Then she admitted quietly to herself. “I am as curious about Daenerys Targaryen as I was about you.”

Jon observed Sarella quietly for a second. “What are you saying? That you trust this foreign queen?”

Sarella shrugged. “I trust that the witch’s prophecy mentioned three. I trust you are one of the three. And that it’s highly likely Daenerys is too. And I trust that the dwarf is the only one on this island who believes in both of you. He’s also one of the few who Daenerys seeks for advice.”

* * *

 

“Dragon’s glass?” Daenerys looked at Tyrion like he lost his mind.

“Yes. Jon Snow says you have a tremendous amount of it here.” Tyrion replied.

“Why are we talking about glass?” Daenrys raised her hands in exasperation. “We just lost two of our allies to Cersei!”

“Which is why I was speaking to Jon Snow… a potential new ally.” Continuing his charming speech, Tyrion convinced Daenrys that she would be giving up nothing at all to allow Jon to mine the dragon glass underneath the castle, all the while taking a step towards gaining his trust. “It will keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand. Castley Rock.”

Daenerys paused for a second remembering something that the onion had said in defense of his king. “What was that Ser Davos said… about taking a knife in the heart for his people? Did you notice that?”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow knowingly. “You must allow them their flights of fancy. It’s dreary in the North.”

* * *

 

Sarella stood dressed as the foreigner on the island cliffs, watching as Jon spoke to Daenerys down below. The tension between them was obvious even from a distance, as the young man and woman both stood their ground while agreeing to put their disagreement to the side for now.

Sarella had observed in the throne room more than what she revealed Jon. But she never divulged everything she knew to anyone. Not even to Jon Snow.

From the very start, she noted how similar the two of them were though they went about their similarities in opposite ways. Daenerys with her fiery words and Jon with his cool silence. Both used this to distract from what hid underneath. Both very aware how a pure heart was taken as a weakness in this world.

They were both curious about each other though neither would admit how much. And just as equally as attracted to each other as they were repulsed by each other, they fought hard to hold their ground while in each other’s presence.

Sarella hated to admit that she was a bit jealous of Jon’s interest in the beautiful young queen. Jon had not touched her since they arrived on the island. Though a large part of the reason for his distance was what weighed on his mind, part of it was also due to Daenerys Targaryen's presence.

But the distance was only physical because Jon was becoming more and more reliant on Sarella's friendship despite his clear attraction for another woman. He sought out her company every morning and every night... to talk or to stand and not talk, depending on his mood. And Sarella just accepted this because until he decided to touch her again, there was no changing Jon Snow’s mind.  

As the days past, the mining for the dragon glass began and the ancient drawings of the children of the forest were uncovered. Mean while, Sarella began to realize that her feelings for Jon ran far deeper than just loyalty and friendship.  But the connection between Jon, Daenerys, and the prophecy was also becoming more and more evident, and she feared in the end, she would likely have to settle for just Jon's friendship and perhaps a broken heart.


End file.
